


Do I Wanna Know?

by coldwarqueer



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Drabble, Gunplay, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Power Play, Trust Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3268520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldwarqueer/pseuds/coldwarqueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix and Locus put on a show for their respective armies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do I Wanna Know?

Locus didn’t need to ask.

He didn’t need to ask Felix for a color, for a safeword, when he cupped his partner’s jaw in his gloved hand. Felix was bare and open before him, kneeling with his head tilted up and eyes closed. Locus brushed his thumb over the dust of flush on his cheek, feeling the warmth and the heat Felix exuded like sweat.

He didn’t ask as he pulled out the gun, resting the warm barrel, freshly used, against Felix’s cheek. Felix parted his lips wordlessly as Locus flicked off the safety. The gunmetal was still warm and when Felix opened his eyes he traced the spatter of blood along Locus’ armor and the breath that he exhaled was accompanied with a gentle keen.

Locus had his finger on the trigger. Locus pushed the heel of his palm against the textured handle of the pistol, until Felix’s mouth opened wide enough to accept it. The hand holding Felix’s chin slid up into his hair, his hold gentle and gliding through the dark tresses like an oiled machine.

The gun was swallowed up to the trigger guard and Felix’s gag reflex held. He trusted Locus not to trigger it, and he trusted Locus not to trigger the gun either.

As Felix’s bottom lip trembled against the trigger guard, Locus notched his head a degree to the right to glance over his shoulder at the body laid open for the carrion birds of Chorus. His gun hand held strong, pushing against Felix’s limits and pushing the limits of the myriad of eyes watching them.

Their audience watched from the safety of the treeline and the cover of rock, and Felix always did like to give a good show.

The only movement was the back and forth of the gun as it slid so easily over Felix’s lips, so careful not to catch the ring in his tongue. Locus halted only when Felix’s gag reflex refused to be held any longer, and his partner’s head lurched forward, throat clenching and hands twitching at his sides.

He thumbed away the saliva from Felix’s glistening lips as the pistol came away. Locus crouched down in front of his partner, in this scenario his captive, and pressed the wet barrel against Felix’s cheek as his hand caressed the opposite. The harsh exhalations Felix gasped out came up on his HUD as a warning; instead Locus focused on how Felix leaned into his touch, away from the gun.

Felix stared up, with gaslit brown eyes goading him on.

Locus curled his hand around Felix’s face, fingers digging into sensitive skin and gun pressed to his temple. He didn’t need to ask Felix, he knew what to do.

As he pushed Felix back, using just the hand holding Felix’s face, he raised his pistol and aimed. He could hear the dramatic hushed breaths that came, the inhales of the audience that mistook their tenderness for savagery.

He pulled the trigger.

Over the ringing in his ears, though the dust had yet to clear, Locus heard his partner shifting. Felix shifted away from the bullet hole in the rock a hair's breadth from his ear and Locus lowered his gun at the distinct sound of Felix’s gentle whimper.

Locus took care to lift Felix gently. He could hear Felix’s heartbeat in the shoulder he gripped and his HUD identified Felix’s adrenaline blown out pupils. Still he offered the gun, still smoking, to Felix’s mouth.

The metal was still hot and it burned his tongue, but Felix accepted the offered tribute. He pressed the flat of his tongue against the heated barrel. He tasted gunpowder and tar, and he would be for days. Locus waited, tilting the gun and letting his finger drop from the trigger, until finally Felix retreated his tongue and instead kissed the chamber.

He lowered his head in acknowledgement and tapped the gun to the bared teeth of his helmet, before he pulled away, fingers dragging like promises over Felix’s cheek. Felix leaned into his fingertips until finally it left him, and he was left with his body aching for the gentle touch.

Locus holstered his gun and pivoted like a machine gun. He stalked across the battlefield, back to his Federal Army audience.


End file.
